Warming Up To New Things
by sweetprincipale
Summary: Set in an AU late season three or early season four where Spike and Drusilla briefly reunite in Sunnydale, when Spike suddenly- or not so suddenly- realizes that he's left a bit cold by his lady love, and he's starting to warm up to someone else.
1. Chapter 1

Warming Up To New Things

Set in an AU late season three or early season four where Spike and Drusilla briefly reunite in Sunnydale, when Spike suddenly- or not so suddenly- realizes that he's left a bit cold by his lady love, and he's starting to warm up to someone else.

He doesn't know when he started to warm up to her. Underneath all of his mocking and sniping for her being loyal to the big broody idiot turned evil, he admired that loyalty. Certainly his own lady love had never been loyal and always rather capricious.

Maybe it was when she could have killed him time and time again, helpless as he was in that bloody chair, and then weaker than he wanted to admit, but she didn't. She would bend those rules and work with something as dark as she was light to save what she loved. He had always been a bit of a rule breaker himself, or at least that's what he like others to believe. And as for saving what he loved, he could certainly attest to a kinship with that. He'd tried to save his mother, and hadn't he tried to save Dru, endlessly scraping her back together, binding up her shattered little mind, time after time.

Maybe it was when he was drunk and angry and holding the witch and the whelp hostage. She came riding in like the cavalry she was always destined to be, and he thought that he would have liked a friend like that. Only demons don't have friends. They have commodities and trade-offs and payoffs, and he was never really going to get the good end of things, but maybe a little tiny spark in him admired that about her. She was the goods for the pathetic little wicca. It was nice to see some second string character in life being treated like an equal. God knows Angelus had never treated him like that, and even when put to it , neither had Dru.

And now, in some bizarre twist of fate, she was the one tied up and waiting for the cavalry to come and he was the one with the power and the ability to distract Dru. He suddenly had a mad desire not to snap that pretty little neck, but to save it instead.

"You know, Dru, those pretty little knives you brought back with you from your last time galavantin'?" He glossed over the fact that her absence had been another one of her trysts, another with a lover that wasn't him. "Why don't we have a bit of a play before we see to that Slayer?"

Dru stopped what she was doing, stopped approaching the small blonde shoved onto the floor, which is what he wanted. Only a moment with and opportunity, and she should be free, especially if he just happened to slip something he was carrying into her hands as he passed.

His raven-haired temptress looked at him quizzically, her lilting voice pointing out, "But you don't like my pretty toys, nor my pretty games. You don't like the strings of rubies on your own skin. Makes you feel like you're going to bits. Makes you feel like you're out of control, and we all know how much you love _control_ , Sweet William." She purred the words, eyes dreamy, hips hinting.

He noticed she did not say how much control he had, because she was holding it all. But as he smiled at her, sauntering up with a curling smirk and sex in his swagger, he had all the control he wanted. He took her by the arm and turned her away, leading her to the little room they called their own, silently dropping the knife from his duster down to the Slayer's reach. He didn't even blink an eye but smiled in his head when she caught it perfectly without a sound, even though her hands were bound.

"Why, you know, Luv, I've been thinking about those pretty toys and all those ruby reds. And I think I'm warming up to new things," he purred for Drusilla, but his eyes weren't for her. He met startled green eyes, confused, then suddenly understanding, and he had to look away before Drusilla noticed. Something quick and hot flooded his chest where a heart used to beat. A sweet flash and a twist of pain followed. What had he done? Something he couldn't undo.

Now she'd be free and he'd still be trapped. But yet, he knew he wouldn't change it, wouldn't change a footstep down this reckless path he'd plunged down. He was warming up to new things all right, just all the wrong ones.


	2. Chapter 2

Warming Up To New Things

Part II

Set in an AU early season four where Spike and Drusilla briefly reunite in Sunnydale, when Spike suddenly- or not so suddenly- realizes that he's left a bit cold by his lady love, and he's starting to warm up to someone else. Could that someone feel the same?

She wasn't used to drinking. The Bronze was the only bar she'd ever frequented, and that was more like a dance club, alcohol was optional, secondary.

She was used to heartbreak, she just wasn't used to "drowning her sorrows" as the saying goes. She flipped her fake ID past the bored-looking bartender who was probably barely past 21 himself and probably didn't even care about checking IDs at this point. Sunnydale had too many strange customers to waste time worrying about the humans who were a year or two underage.

And maybe it was when the song came on did she realize how sick she was a heartache.

"Wild, wild horses… couldn't drag me away…"

She and Angel danced to that. Once, when she thought they might fix things. Was it only five months ago? How had so much changed so fast?

"Beer. And whiskey. Whatever makes you forget really fast would be good," she told the bartender as he came past. Something to forget the heartbreak. Maybe it was at that point she realized that she liked that about Spike. He didn't break hearts. Not like Angel, not like Angelus, not even like Parker. No one-time, "flash in the pan" for him. No one night of "You mean everything to me" and then being done by the next morning.

Yeah, definitely not big on dishing out the heartbreak, but like her, he could surely take it. And work to fix it. How hard he'd worked, as she watched, even from a distance, to save Drusilla, to see him scrape them back together. Drusilla wasn't exactly helpful in those moments. His broken-hearted ranting when he'd lost her, when she'd cheated on him…

 _He's an evil, jerky bastard. But I can't help but admire the loyalty. The love. If vampires loved without a soul._

The image of a perfectly timed knife dropping handle side down into her lap sprang unbidden to her eyes. _He helped me get free. He wasn't being loyal to his one eternal love then._ She didn't understand that.

His eyes had met hers, and they both saw it- the realization, the discomfort. She'd been able to look past it. So what if Spike had suddenly developed some feelings for her? What _kind_ of feelings, she didn't know, not feelings like he had for Drusilla, but feelings of some strange, helpful kind.

She was certainly appreciative of it. Maybe it was a sign that things could change. Maybe it was a sign that she could change, leave heartbreak behind, leave the bad, messy, yuck of relationships behind. Yes. She would focus on school, slaying, and friendships, she would be done with matters of the heart.

Spike wasn't done with matters of the heart. Never. That was like… part of his essence, to be, as he had once told her, "love's bitch." So why had he risked wrecking things with Drusilla, when they'd only just reconciled? She didn't even know they had, didn't know if they still were, not after that move that allowed her to get free a few days ago. Of course, maybe Drusilla hadn't figured out his part in the escape. But Spike would know and-

"That'll be $17.50," the bartender put down a beer in a frosted mug, a shot of whiskey, and some other two-toned drink in a tall glass in front of her.

"Oh. Uh- wait a second…" She fumbled for her wallet, opening it to find her worst fears confirmed. A ten. She never drank! She didn't know how much alcohol cost! Could you send a drink back? Did you have to pay for it once it was poured? Her cheeks started to flame.

"This takes care of it," a pale hand, covered in bruises and adorned with a silver skull ring reached past her, making her whirl so hard she almost fell off her seat.

"Spike."

"You're not really drinking all that?" he quirked one eyebrow.

"I… was going to," she didn't protest as he took the small shot glass of dark amber fluid.

"Seeing as I paid-" he swallowed it down.

She looked at him, waiting for the usual annoyance to flare and the snarky, waspish comments to burst from her lips. Nothing. "I owe you a few drinks. I owe you a lot more," she pushed the other two glasses toward him.

"Oh, c'mon Slayer, you must've needed one of these, at least. Gotta say, never pictured you as a Harvey Wallbanger type."

She wanted to save face, "No, no, I'm all about wallbanging."

 _That sounded so dirty in my head. If it sounded dirty to me- Spike's going to have a field day._

But he didn't. Silence fell- well, it stumbled. Blue eyes met green, cautiously. "Give me back one of them," she gestured. "If I can't kill the heartbreak, maybe I can drown the mortification."

"Sure. Ta' then," he pushed the two-toned drink back to her, and tipped her a brief little salute.

She found herself looking at him as he walked away. In the warm fall night, he wasn't wearing his duster, unusual for him. He was in a skintight black tee, faded black denim jeans. Attractive. If you didn't know he was a vamp, he could be hot.

No, being a vamp didn't make him un-hot. But that wasn't even what she was noticing. Scars. Healing scars all over his arms, the back of his neck.

Words she wanted to forget, couldn't forget, rushed back.

" _You know, Dru, those pretty little knives you brought back with you from your last time galavantin'? Why don't we have a bit of a play before we see to that Slayer?"_

" _But you don't like my pretty toys, nor my pretty games. You don't like the strings of rubies on your own skin. Makes you feel like you're going to bits. Makes you feel like you're out of control, and we all know how much you love control, Sweet William."_

And he'd told Drusilla he'd changed his mind about that, that he wanted to go play with those sharp little "toys". It was giving her a chance to run. He gave her the tools, he gave her the chance. He paid for it himself.

She found herself downing the drink, gasping, coughing, and staggering after the retreating figure in black. She caught up with him by the pool table in the rundown backroom, apparently dominated by drunk frat boys. She earned a few whistles as she entered, which she ignored. But he didn't, focusing on her in the herd of bodies.

Eyes met. Hesitation.

 _What do I say? Thanks for letting your sweetie use you as an undead cutting board?_

 _Why'd you do it?_

 _Thank you. Thank you, Spike._ The words wouldn't have come out if they tried.

 _Well, I have to try. If he can help me, if he can change, and he's soulless and evil, I can totally take the high road here._

Her steps were uneven but they ended squarely in front of him. "Thank you."

He could pretend it was about the drink. But he was tired of playing games. His last little session with Dru had been… unpleasant. No more games, physical or otherwise. "You're welcome."

"Can I ask-"

-for your number, baby? What's your name, Sweet Cheeks?" A prime example of Mr. Drunk and Fraternal came over and planted his hands on her hips, cutting off her sentence and laughing at his own cleverness.

Spike snarled but didn't move. In fact, he almost looked amused. Like he was waiting for the show to start.

"Oh sure, _baby_ ," she turned to face him, "it's 123-555-Get your hands off of me."

"Bit-"

He didn't get to finish the insult. Her fist slammed neatly into his jaw. Angry frat brothers swarmed to his defense.

"I think we should go, unless you'd like to fight the pack of beer-swillin' jocks?" Spike murmured quietly.

She nodded. _There's a "we"?_ There had been a we before, stopping Angelus, odd moments of alliance. How did it keep coming back?

 _How does he keep coming back? How do_ I _keep coming back?_

The two of them moved rapidly out through the throng. Spike hastily finished the beer and tossed the glass over his shoulder with perfect aim, connecting with someone's angry face.

"Nice," she couldn't help but smile.

"I loved the fake number lead in," Spike complimented in return. "He looked smug for a second there, then- wham."

They shared a chuckle as they beat a hasty retreat, out into the humid autumn night, quiet except for the pounding bass that escaped from the bar's sound system.

"Ah, well. Storm's comin'," Spike sighed.

 _A storm? What kind of metaphor is that? Big change. Upheaval. Between us?_ She sighed. "I don't know why you did it. I mean, I _think_ I do. You want things to- to change between us. Right?"

"Slayer-" Spike looked mildly shocked.

"I have to say- I wouldn't hate that. I don't know what you're thinking, but honestly, this last year sucked. SUCKED. I'd be happy to have one less enemy. I suppose you and me, being anything other than mortal enemies, the 'Slayer of Slayers' and the Vampire Slayer being allies- yeah, that really does show the storm is coming."

Spike opened his mouth, but closed it as a torrent of heavy raindrops suddenly soaked them.

She blushed sheepishly. Mortification was immortal. Couldn't be killed. Wouldn't die. "Oh. _Literal_ storm. I'm just gonna-" she turned to escape.

"Buffy, wait," his hand took her elbow, firmly, not hard, not gentle. "Yeah, somethin' changed. An' you're welcome."

Silence. "We don't have to stand here in the rain, do we?" she heard herself asking. _Wait, does that mean I want to keep talking with him? Why? What about?_

 _Doesn't matter. I guess I just do._

Spike paused. "I -uh- I don't have that same little place anymore. Dru torched it before she left town. But, we should get outta the rain. You human types, you can catch cold easy. Well, s'pose you don't, since you're the Slayer."

"I could still use a warm-up," she blurted.

 _Hadn't he said that? He was warming up to new things?_

Intense blue eyes met hers through the sheet of rain. "Where d'you wanna go?"

I don't know. I don't know what's happened between us, but I have a feeling I want to warm up in more ways than one. "Um. My place?"

He shrugged and nodded, uncharacteristically quiet. "Lead the way."

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Warming Up To New Things

Part III

Set in an AU early season four where Spike and Drusilla briefly reunite in Sunnydale, when Spike suddenly- or not so suddenly- realizes that he's left a bit cold by his lady love, and he's starting to warm up to someone else. Could that someone feel the same?

"Willow might be there," Buffy realized as they walked. "She wasn't planning to be, but she could have had plans change."

Spike nodded. _What do I say to that? What's that mean?_ "Coffee shop?"

 _Did Spike just ask me out for coffee? What do I say to that? What's that mean? Probably just that we need a spot where we're not getting pelted with rain, and maybe he didn't want Willow around to overhear us talk about what happened. Because I never told anyone exactly how I got caught, or got away._ "Yeah, there's a little shop near the library that stays open late."

"I didn't bring my car. Shoulda brought my coat," he winced as rain ran down his collar and into his ears. He shook his head, sending his platinum locks askew, now drenched. The result was less than flattering. Buffy stifled a giggle. "You don't look so picture perfect, either," he quirked his lips into a crooked grin, pointing to her plastered-down hair.

"I don't know why I never bring an umbrella patrolling. It could double as a stake, right?" she suddenly mused.

"Practical, fends off the weather and the undead," and to his surprise, and hers, there was another mutual chuckle.

It was stifled quickly. _Why am I laughing at him? With him? He is the undead, the evil undead. He kills humans, he kills slayers._

 _But he saved me._

"Turn here," Buffy pointed, smile suddenly gone.

The coffee shop was almost empty, lights were low and yellow, creating an atmosphere that was cozy and quiet, perfect for the diehard studiers who were still hitting the books after ten, nearly eleven. "You got the drinks, I'll get coffee. Oh. Are we _having_ coffee?"

"They sell hot cocoa?"

"Two cocoas, coming up." _Doesn't this sound cozy? And weird as hell?_

* * *

She came back and put the cocoa in front of him with a tense smile. His hair was already drying. She picked up a starburst bruise around one eye that she hadn't seen in the darkness of the bar. "What are we doing?" she asked abruptly.

"Lookin' for mini marshmallows," Spike craned his neck toward the little bar with creamers and sugars and poofy syrups. "You'd think with seventeen different coffee flaovrings, they could leave out a few marshmallows, wouldn't you?"

"Too many college kids would come in here and eat the whole bowl," she was privately thinking the same thing about whipped cream. "They give you whipped cream, but it melts so fast. They should leave a can of it out, next to the milk and creamer."

"Probably some college kids'd nick that, too," he sipped and sighed. "Just the right amount of sugar, I'll give 'em that."

"Yeah, I don't come in here much, but when I- wait. Stop. Spike, what are we doing? Here, now, talking to each other?"

He considered. "Not being enemies, I guess."

"You saved my life the other night."

"You've saved mine before," he waved it away, but inside he was waiting. Y _es, you noticed. An' you appreciate it. This isn't like the old days. This isn't her old way to treat poor, pathetic Spike. Somethin' changed for me, but changed for her, too._

"You did it without telling Drusilla. She wasn't happy about it, judging from your 'claw marks'," she gestured.

Lies, lies between him and Dru, had been for years. Not with the Slayer, not anymore. "No, she wasn't pleased at all. I'm always gonna love her. But I'm not in love with her anymore," he looked sick as he said the horrible words, breaking what he'd thought was unbreakable. "I always thought she was everything I could want, but there's one thing she isn't. At last not to me."

Buffy watched his head bow, dark eyebrows lower and pale lips curl in a pained grimace. Vampires always played rough. She didn't know what prompted her to say, "Gentle?" as she looked at the cascade of healing streaks down the back of his neck, visible from his profile.

He swallowed a smile. "No, we could be gentle, Luv. I could be loyal. She's havin' trouble with that."

Buffy grit her teeth, "Loyalty is in _reeeal_ short supply these days. Humans and vamps." _Angel. Angelus. Parker. No matter what the situation, they were only around me if it suited them._

"Amen."

His mug was out. Hers clinked to it. They exchanged surprised glances and awkwardly looked away. "You worked really hard trying to save her. Her life, her mind, her- her love." Buffy mulled the last word, rolling her tongue inside her mouth after it left. _Yeah. He and Drusilla had something like love. More love and devotion than so many human couples. I don't know, I thought demons couldn't love, but what he had for her... This is too confusing._

"You did the same thing for Angel, Pet. I know that. Even as Angelus, he couldn't stop talking about you, about how you loved him." He didn't tell her it was said with such condescension, such mocking.

Buffy gave him a surprised look, a look of pretty pain that melted some part usually reserved for Drusilla in one of her fits of agony. "He did?"

"Yeah, he did."

She became brisk, tone getting angrier the longer she talked. "Well, it's over now. He left. Haven't heard from him all summer, not two words, not a postcard or a phone call."

"Bastard," Spike looked genuinely disgusted. "He never knew a good thing when he had it."

"Neither did she," Buffy replied firmly.

"Well, well. We're full of surprises tonight," Spike's eyebrows were raised. Had she just called him something good? He supposed, given the right motivation, he could be. Saving her had been an act of good, an act he chose, an act he wanted to complete, not knowing if it would ever have any tangible dividends. _Although…_ Spike watched her smile at him, something almost shy and most definitely incredulous. _Those smiles are pretty valuable. Seen precious few of them in the last year or so._

"Slayer, I was thinkin' about movin' in a different direction after -"

"Shit! Shit, shut up, shh!" Buffy made a flurry of frantic noises that all blurred together, eyes now openly panicked.

"Jerks from the bar followin' us? Demons? Vamps?" Spike slid toward her, knees bending, defensive crouch beginning as naturally as blinking.

"Worse. Parker," Buffy spat the word in a low hiss as if ridding her mouth of rotten meat.

"What's a parker?"

"That. Black curly hair, sweet smile, big eyes, charm and good conversation, oozing all over _that_ ," Buffy jerked her chin toward couple, preppy college boy and a curvaceous blonde who filled out an orange sweater and giggled helplessly as they took a booth.

"What'd he do?" Spike moved his chair, now beside her instead of across from her. He bent his head low, and she leaned into him, tickling him with her breath, sweetly scented like cocoa and cream, warm on parts of him that were always cool to the touch.

"I don't want to go into details. He is just the poster boy for lack of loyalty. His picture would be in the dictionary under 'one night stands, also see jerk.'"

Spike looked at the tightening of the jaw, the curling of the fingers into fists. "He hurt you?"

Lying would have been better, less embarrassing. She didn't feel like lying to him. "Yeah," she admitted softly. "A new one every week. Probably a _couple_ a week, I was just tied up for a couple of days and missed out on the revolving door of duped females."

"Oh, c'mon, it was only a few hours, and -oh. You meant busy," Spike coughed uncomfortably.

She ignored the misunderstanding, the reminder of her capture that he'd been the one to end. "He acts like it never happened. Nothing's wrong. It's just normal to make someone think you really care for them and even love- well, not like that, but you really, really have something special. Suddenly you're doing things… Things you weren't going to do anymore. Just as suddenly, he's done with you and you don't even know what you did wrong."

Her voice got lower, sadder. Her head sank, shame creeping up, and she almost jumped out of her skin when his hand came to cup her cheek, tilt her head up.

"Spike. No," Buffy began to pull back, eyes wide.

"He's watching you. Now smile at me," Spike whispered, eyes intense, not matching the suddenly light, boyish grin.

 _He's not supposed to be handsome. Why is he suddenly handsome?_ She smiled shakily. "He's watching?"

"He's a wanker, Buffy. I can tell. Smell the lies on him. He likes to take. Cause a bit of pain. Smile like it was just a little lesson, a gift from the master. Angelus had that same smile," Spike cut his eyes to the couple and back.

She muttered bitterly, "I have a type. I can't even tell I have a type."

"No, you had someone you loved. Then someone who used you."

His hand was still there. It started to drift away, but she stayed close to him. "You're acting differently."

"I was 'bout to tell you that before human scum came in," he whispered.

"Tell me now?"

"I don't want to be enemies."

"You said that."

"You didn't say what _you_ wanted. In my experience, ladies are supposed to have a say about what they want."

 _Angel didn't do that. Parker didn't do that. They ended things on their terms, never mine, never mutual._ "I don't want to be enemies. But-"

"I'm not going to be saintly. I could be friendly, though."

"Friendly with- me?"

"Is that somethin' you'd consider?"

 _We have to stop looking at each other. Too intense. He's cold, why is there heat? I wanted to warm up, but not like this. Not feel… heated. For him. I don't. I do not._ "Friends?"

"Just said that bit, Slayer," he laughed, his head bowing slightly, and to her surprise, gently brushing hers, forehead to forehead.

"I… would like that. I don't trust-" she almost said "you", but for some odd reason, her lips balked at that.

"Me?"

"No. Not that," she sat back, puzzled. "I don't know what to make of this, but I could like it. I could definitely like it. I'm almost afraid to like it."

He sat back as well, next to her. They watched Parker's hands find their way all over buxom blonde's shoulders and rest on her breast under the guise of stroking her hair. "I feel so stupid right now. I hope I didn't look that dumb when he was putting the moves on me."

"I'm pretty sure you didn't. You must've made him work for it."

"Not hard enough," the regret-tinged her voice, and it stung him.

"I don't think he's too happy with tits for brains over there, actually," Spike suddenly said.

"Spike! Don't call her that! I mean, she might not be too bright, but it isn't because of her cup size!" Buffy admonished.

"Shhh. Use your Slayer skills. Huntress, aren't you?"

Huntress? Had she ever been called that? If not, she sure liked it right now. Powerful. Clever. More than just a killer, a tracker of prey.

"He paws the girl, but he looks over here. He keeps cutting his eyes this way, but so far, you haven't met his glance. He's not gonna be happy until you do. Not happy unless he sees your sad little face, mourning the loss of him, what a great catch he was, all that ego-panderin' muck."

"Then I won't look. He's not going to have any more satisfaction off of me. I already gave him _plenty_ ," she curled her lips in something like a predatory smile.

 _Bloody hell, why?_ Why _did she have to make me wonder?_

She blushed. _Why did I say that, like that?_

"It's killin' him, seein' you here with a new man. He doesn't know I'm not - I'm not the new man," Spike's smooth, low voice faltered at the end.

"You sounded like a new man a minute ago. Acting differently?"

"Well, yeah, that. But not a new man for you. Not like he thinks. Although, I'm all right if you don't disillusion him just yet. Blondie's startin' to notice he's not really payin' her much mind. He can't stop lookin' this way."

She bit her lip. _Let's give him something to look at, the thought crept into her brain. Let's make him so jealous, let's make him hurt the way he made me hurt._

 _But you can't. You don't use people like he does, I wouldn't play with Spike's head like that. And he doesn't care about you anyway, so it's not like he'd even feel any kind of true envy, he wouldn't care. He just wants to make sure_ you _hurt._

 _Let's show him I don't. "_ Spike?"

"What, Slayer?"

"If I asked you to come back to my dorm, what would you think?" she asked cautiously

"Either you wanted to be friendly in a whole different way than I'd imagined, or you wanted Parker to think you and I were about to do things he can only dream of. In fact, maybe that's it, Luv. He doesn't like to stick around, but I bet he wishes he was still gettin' the … _benefits_ of being with you."

"That's childish, right? To want him to see how done with him I am? A mature person wouldn't care."

"There's always a little room for harmless payback, and he's not going to get hurt, is he?" Spike smirked.

"Odds are very low. _He_ doesn't care. _I'm_ the one who cares. I'm the- the loyal one."

"He's a fool. Bloody fool," Spike's hand was on her forearm, his voice low and growling. "You don't disrespect people like that. Like you."

Spike had always respected her. Her abilities, her talents, her status as a Slayer. He'd insulted her and hurt her, but there was something about Spike that always screamed "worthy opponent."

"Are we going to hurt each other anymore?"

"Huh?" Spike's arm flew off of hers.

"Fight. If we're not enemies, if we're friends, you and I won't fight. Physically."

"Oh, well. I'd be willing to go ten rounds with you, Slayer, provided you put your stakes down first."

"And you pop out your fangs?"

"All right, I get it. I'd be willing to battle, not to the death. Not even to the severely injured. Maybe first blood?"

 _Something is wrong with me tonight. Offering to battle until "first blood" shouldn't sound really tempting._ "We can't exactly do that in my dorm room."

"It's still raining," Spike looked out the shop's window. "An' don't tip your hand, Slayer, but the git is on the move. B'lieve he's about to 'borrow' our salt or grab napkins off our table, as if there weren't a dozen other vacant tables he could-"

"Do you want to leave now, or play along?" Buffy suddenly changed position, leaving her chair, striding over to him, still eye to eye.

"I love a good game," he blinked before she sat in his lap, straddling him. "As long as no one gets hurt."

"I'm not that heavy," she glared.

"Not that kinda hurt," Spike growled.

It felt so easy, felt so real, right down to the possessive growl, and the friction of legs over legs. Too real, too easy. "You're a good actor."

Who says I'm acting, he wanted to retort. He let his hand slide slowly up into her hair, and she tilted her head, swiveled it, slow and sensual. _She must be able to feel what she's doing to me. I didn't even want it to happen, I just can't help it. Can't stop the reaction._ "You better stop this. You might not want to hurt the boy, but you're 'bout to cause some severe discomfort for m-"

"Buffy? Hey, I thought that was you!" Parker's chipper voice broke into Spike's hissed conversation.

"She's pretty unforgettable," Spike answered the boy, but kept his eyes on Buffy, who still hadn't composed her features enough to look back over her shoulder. "Is this the berk you told me about, Luv? What was it, Peterson? Pillock?"

Buffy had hung out with enough well-versed British men in the past few years to know Pillock was an insult, not a name, and it made her smother a smile, creating a knowing, secretive grin. Perfect, the duo shared the same thought. "Parker, this is my friend-"

"Spike," Spike ignored Parker's proffered hand as Buffy showed off the extremely flexible nature of her spine, turning to look at their unwelcome guest while her hips still faced the vampire, pelvis snuggled to zip and belt buckle.

"Who's the new conquest?" Spike didn't mince words, and managed to wrap an arm casually yet possessively around Buffy's waist.

"Honey, don't be rude," Buffy leaned forward as if to nibble on his ear, in reality to share a wink and smile.

"Oh, uh, this is Sabrina," Parker fell over his words under Spike's glare and Buffy's seeming lack of interest, combined with the suddenly pissed off date at his elbow. "Sabrina, this is Buffy."

"I was his one night stand, _last_ week," Buffy smiled sweetly.

"God!" Sabrina backed away, looking disgusted.

"You didn't know? Oops. Don't feel bad, he didn't tell me it was a one night stand until the _next_ morning, either."

"Prick!" Sabrina shoved away from Parker, hands out with violent force, forestalling his attempts to explain.

"You should really do some sort of full disclosure in writing," Spike suggested in a bored voice. "Girls don't like the bait and switch. Decent people don't much care for it, either."

"Who are you to lecture me on decency?" Parker's face turned ugly with irritation. "And who are you to- to talk about what happened between us in front of Sabrina? You're not much better! A week later, and here you are with a new guy, new pick up."

"Buffy and I've known each other for years. I was out of town. Now I'm back. We'll be seein' a lot of each other, won't we, Luv?"

She hesitated, torn between the charade and honesty. But in reality- the answer that would satisfy real life and this little skit were the same. "Definitely."

"An' I'm no decent human bein'. But I do know how to treat a lady. Don't I, Baby?" He switched his liquid nitrogen stare from Parker to a smoldering simmer at her.

"You're the best of the best when it comes to that," she answered, not even having to stretch the truth.

"You had your shot with the genuine article, Pillock, the best girl a man could ask for, lovin' loyal, an' bloody flexible," a wicked leer that made her blush and Parker look ill at ease. "Your loss is my gain. Keep walkin'."

"Parker, not Pillock, Spike," Buffy corrected amiably.

"Terrible with the names of unimportant people," Spike said dismissively.

Parker flipped both middle fingers up aggressively but found himself ignored.

"Nice of you to stop by!" Buffy caroled as he stomped off and slammed the door of the shop.

* * *

"That was so much fun!" Buffy's eyes glowed and she bounced on his lap in pure giddiness, the rush of feeling powerful again, of feeling… happy.

He couldn't help but smile and glow back. "He was so brassed off. Deserved it."

Buffy clambered off of him, pretending that they hadn't been uncomfortably close, that she couldn't feel the reaction he had to her, and that she hadn't briefly considered exploring it. "Thank you a billion times."

"No, thank _you_. Always fun to wind up bastards like him," he paused. Worth taking a risk. "I meant what I said about you."

"I meant what I said, too," she confessed, feeling heat rushing up her chest, flooding her cheeks under his unblinking stare.

"We're closing," a tired-looking barista informed them.

This could be the end of the adventure. Or it could just be a nudge pushing them to the next destination. "Shall we?" Spike offered her his elbow.

"I guess we shall."

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Warming Up To New Things

Part IV

Set in an AU early season four where Spike and Drusilla briefly reunite in Sunnydale, when Spike suddenly- or not so suddenly- realizes that he's left a bit cold by his lady love, and he's starting to warm up to someone else. Could that someone feel the same?

"We should have been more clear on what we shall be doing. Is that right? That doesn't sound right. What we will be doing? Anyway, we should have figured out that part." They stood huddled under the coffee shop's narrow green awning.

"I guess. I've got a new place. You could come see it, if you fancy."

 _Go to Spike's place. Alone. No one knows where I am. I don't think that's a good idea. Yet._ "You could come with me?"

"To do what?" he asked, reaching into his pocket for smokes and a lighter, then putting them back. Humans had lungs that worked.

"I don't know," Buffy confessed. Heat stirred up, vulnerability and fear cooled it down. "I'm actually really tired."

"I can walk you home and you can sleep," he offered sensibly.

"I'm tired of getting into things too fast, things that don't work out, that I can't get out of."

"Ah," he said knowingly. "Wait. Does that mean… you're afraid of gettin' friendly, or that we might get 'friendly'?" Her blush was answer enough. He coughed and might've managed a blush himself. "Wanna nick an umbrella from the uni library's lost an' found an' just walk a bit?"

"Yes!" her enthusiasm surprised them both. "Wait, how do you-"

"Tricks of the trade, Slayer."

* * *

There was only one umbrella left, and they walked tightly pressed together to share it. It would be so corny and cute- if they weren't having an incredibly strained conversation.

"Why didn't you kill me? Or let her?"

"I don't want you dead. I like you alive. I don't want to be your enemy, so stands to reason there wouldn't be killing. Okay, why didn't you stake me later? You knew where we were. You knew I'd let you go, but you didn't have anything to lose by takin' out a threat when it wasn't in top shape."

She had figured out that Spike might be worse for wear after Drusilla got through with him. "You helped me. I can't repay help with hurt."

"I like that line, Luv."

"Thanks, it's true."

"What about now?"

"What _about_ now?" Buffy asked.

"Well, this has been quite the fun evenin', but I'm still a vampire. We want to be friends, or somethin' like it. I'm waiting for your terms."

"Don't kill anyone?"

"What about drinking?"

"If you keep picking up my bar tab, knock yourself out. Although I probably won't be going there anymore."

"Drinking blood, Slayer," he hip chucked her, knocking her into a puddle and into the pouring rain, earning a shrill yelp and an elbow in the ribs. "I deserved that, I admit it."

"You have to drink blood. And you don't have a soul, so…" she stopped walking and got in front of him. "You wanted to do things differently. _You_ explain how we can be friends, or something like it."

He hesitated. He could always change his mind, if this didn't work. But for as long as she'd give him a chance, and he'd give her the same, it was worth it. "Animal or human, injured, not dead. Not even severely injured. Knocked out and mildly inconvenienced."

"What about human, donated? Like blood drives and hospitals?"

"That goes to sick people. You want me to get bags that are for sickies?"

"It's better to be a pint light for sick people than have dead people, or people coming in for transfusions. It evens out. Plus, people can donate more, but dead people stay dead. Present company excluded."

"All right. Donated if available. Animal from the butchers. Mildly inconvenienced victims if needed. Willing donors welcome."

"No one dies?"

"No." One word. He didn't want to elaborate. His demon was sulking. His trouser furniture was being very pushy. He just wanted a chance to find something that worked, with someone with staying power. Friends. Or more.

"Okay. That's it, really."

"Wait, there aren't ninety seven other things you want old Spike to do to meet your royal wishes?"

Anger surged and died. All the other conditions in the world didn't help the guys stay around. _He wants to be here. He needs to stay alive, such as alive is to him._ "No."

They started to walk again.

"Willing donors?"

There are some people who enjoy it. There isn't one here, but there's a bunch in LA."

"Isn't one what?"

"Blood house. Bite house."

"WHAT? Ew, what is that?"

"People who give willingly, to a vampire who is in it for the blood and the pleasure, not the pain and the kill- they have-" this was awkward. "Like a whore house, Slayer. But without the sex. Well, sometimes without the sex. Actually, rarely without the sex. It feels too good to-"

"Stop now. Please."

"Sorry."

More steps. "Feels good to who?"

"Both. Don't look at me dirty, I've never been to one, but I might have to if I don't get enough the other way. Animal blood isn't as filling."

"What about some from a friend?" _Shit. That sounds like I-_

"Are you the friend in question?" Spike stopped walking in shock. Now that she was holding the umbrella, he was immediately drenched as she kept moving. With a mutual gasp, he caught up and she turned back.

"No, I wasn't. I mean, I wouldn't. I wasn't saying that, I just wanted to know." Buffy hesitated. "Angel bit me. Once, it was to make him better. He was poisoned."

"I remember that. He nearly drained you, didn't he?" Her tense, jerk of the head was all the answer he got, but it spoke more eloquently than any speech.

"The Master bit me. Didn't take a lot."

"You're no stranger to bites. But they never felt good. I can get why you wouldn't want to-"

"Totally do not want to," she was firm.

"Okay, okay, I wasn't asking,: he was huffy.

"Sorry."

"Me, too. Get touchy sometimes. Feel like a nancy playin' nice. But I still intend to do it."

"Is it less of a nancy thing - I'm thinkin that means sissy- to go to some blood house?"

"It at least looks like you're there out of choice, for fun."

More silent steps, and the rain continued to pour. "The people like the feeling?"

"If it's done right, it's a good feeling. Can we stop talkin' about this part? I'm gettin' squirmy." He rolled his shoulders restlessly.

"I just don't want a-" she almost said "a nice guy like you." Spike was not a nice guy. _Yeah, but he's not some "sleep with everything that moves" skirt chaser. He doesn't deserve to get used for someone to get off on, and I don't like the idea of him starting to - to prostitute himself for food to survive. That's like- heartbreaking and third world country-ish._ "I just don't want things that are bad, or degrading, to happen to you, because you have a- I don't know what it is. Heart, maybe? Can you have a good heart?" _He kills. But he loves. He protects and he saves and he chooses to stop doing evil things, or at least he wants to try to._ She leaned to him suddenly. Battered, broken hearts, both of them.

"You're worryin' about me?" Like she worried about the rest of her little white hand pack. Maybe not just the same, but it was a start. Yes, there was something good in his heart. She was worming into it, and he'd stopped hating the fact.

"Yes," she admitted in a tiny voice that was almost blotted out by a crash of thunder.

"I'm a survivor."

"How come your cuts haven't healed yet? Was it how hard she went, or because you haven't been eating much?"

"Both, maybe. Why'd you suddenly go there? Your head is a maze, and I need a map."

"You survived a lot. Me, too."

"Friends should have things in common."

"We do. Weird, huh?"

"Weird, but pretty nice, Slayer. Wanna do this again sometime? The coffee and the walk? Minus the jerky bastard crashin' cocoa time? Or with the pillock if you like, 'cause that was fun, windin' him up."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"I suppose."

"As a friend, or as more?"

"Bloody hell, Slayer, the questions. Puts me off."

"You're honest with me. I like that."

"What if I said yes?"

"To which one?"

"To either one, what would you say?"

Buffy put the umbrella into his hand, but didn't release it. They were holding the handle together, fingers slowly intertwining. "I don't want to get hurt anymore."

"Full agreement with you. No one gets hurt. In either scenario, in case you're wondering which one."

"I say yes. To both. Either. Slowly?"

For a second there, it seemed like they didn't want to move slowly. It felt like she'd swung her hips to his and hit the gas. _But that's how mistakes are made. Rushing. Giving the heart away without being able to control it, or control what's about to happen to it. She doesn't trust me. I trust that she's a good one, but I don't trust that she won't hurt me someday, by breaking the heart if I give it over to her before I'm sure. I shouldn't be having these thoughts. Hearts aren't brains._

"Slowly is fine."

"I believe you won't hurt me, it's not that I- well, it's not a really concrete belief yet, but maybe-"

"I get it, Slayer. You're a good person. One of the righteous ones. I still worry that my heart'd get mangled if I give it to you."

"What? I would never! I'm not like- I mean, I get that not all good people are good at being in love."

"Angel," he coughed, earning a less than delicate step in his insole.

"It's too soon to talk about- about hearts," Buffy whispered, half-choked on the oddity of the conversation.

"Friends, then. Maybe friendship will be a warm-up for somethin' more, someday. Not in a rush. Entirely," he gave her one dark, hungry look that reminded her that a beast was still there, a beast that found parts of her very desirable.

Thoughts of good things and lusty things, low down, dark, hot things chased around her brain. She returned the look, leaving them both frozen, too close together, too close to making a mistake, hitting the gas and forgetting all the words of caution.

"This is my dorm," Buffy whispered.

Her lips were so close that he could feel the puff of air when they formed words.

"Someday, maybe I'll get an invite," his own lips moved toward hers.

She could feel the tiny drop in temperature, the faint chill of his lips so close to her skin. "Do friends kiss each other goodnight?"

He moved forward, bypassing her lips to kiss her cheek. "I think that's how friends do it. If it was more than friends…"

"A warm up for something more, someday?" She returned his serve, pressing her cheek to his, shuddering at the contact, feeling his chest hit hers, his hand slowly press the curve of her back.

"Then, yeah. I s'pose they might."

"Might be a mistake." she was shaking. His hand stilled her. He twitched. Her hand latched onto the scarred neck, the neck that bowed but wouldn't break.

"I promise it won't hurt. I won't hurt you. If you won't-"

She cut him off, unable to stand it any longer. "I promise."

Lips crashed. The umbrella dropped and rolled, hands needed to grab hair and shoulders and anything else to keep them pressed together, locked in one moment where it was going to be good again- someday.

Lightning seared the sky, and they broke apart, panting. "See you tomorrow?" he finally managed to ask.

"Patrol at nine?"

"Cocoa at eleven?"

"It's a date," she smiled.

"It's a date," he agreed.

The end (for now).


End file.
